


Lifeline

by stuffilikeiwrite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Lives, Anakin and Vader Are the Same, And Ahsoka Knows, Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Mentions 501st, Mentions Obi Wan, Mentions Rex, Mentions Shmi, Mentions of Padmé - Freeform, Pain All Over, Post-Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice, Post-Episode: s04e13 A World Between Worlds, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Sad Ending, Sad!Ahsoka, Sad!Vader, Vader Just Doesn't Want to Accept It, because of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffilikeiwrite/pseuds/stuffilikeiwrite
Summary: Anakin.She hesitated, knowing that to invite him meant danger. Meant he may be able to locate or pinpoint her, however well she'd conceal her tracks. Opening up to the Force these days, with the Empire's shadow looming over the Galaxy, always came with horrible repercussions. Yet, even with that in mind, she couldn't deny him. She had promised him she’d stay.
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano & Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	Lifeline

There was a sudden flicker. 

So distant, so weak and wavering a gleam that she just might have thought it to be a fallacy, a trick of the mind. Her imagination willing it into existence. If that had been all, she might have ignored it. Might have denied it, might have told herself it was only an illusion. That it was only her weary state conjuring hope into her aimless life.

Until it sparked again. 

Persistent, as it traced the periphery of her senses like the appearance of an unexpected, old friend. Not calling out to her in particular, but rather to anyone. To anything familiar, perhaps even unknowing of the fact that its was writhing in despair. Screaming for recognition, for comfort, for notice. Stumbling in the dark for a lifeline to cling to.

Ahsoka's chest felt inexplicably tight, as she allowed herself to taste the presence, so size it up. From afar, it seemed so much more like the man she'd once known. The man she remembered, the man she no longer recognized.

_Anakin._

She hesitated, knowing that to invite him meant danger. Meant he may be able to locate or pinpoint her, however well she'd conceal her tracks. Opening up to the Force these days, with the Empire's shadow looming over the Galaxy, always came with horrible repercussions. Yet, even with that in mind, she couldn't deny him. She had promised him she’d stay.

Ever since Malachor, ever since she'd lost touch with the Rebellion, she'd found herself restless. Unable to stay in one place for too long, constantly glancing over her shoulder. On alert, highly strung. Barely able to sleep, for fear of Inquisitors finding her in the night. At the same time, she had expected to die that day. Had been set on staying beside him til the bitter end, even if it may be by _his_ hand. 

His hands were drenched in figurative blood. His conscience black and charred with sin, bearing the weight of countless innocent lives snuffed out. All for what?

She couldn't understand how the gentle, sensible, nurturing man she'd once known could have fallen so far from grace. But, as the tainted yet distinct Force signature she'd once felt such a kinship with reached out blindly for aid; she responded. What else was there to live for, if not him? He was the last link to her past; their _shared_ past. As if reaching out her hand, she grasped at his unseen, extended conscience. When a cold, sodden weight settled at the pit of her belly she was convinced she had made contact.

"Anakin."

She breathed the name, trepidation colouring her tone as the words carried over the established bond. She felt the tremor as the connection wavered, as if the man himself was now hesitant. Or perhaps her initial assumption that the cry for solace hadn't been intentional had been right all along. Still, she shut her eyes as she latched firmly onto his signature, to his aura. 

It was so much colder than she remembered it, so much darker. All harsh edges, and prickling tendrils of agony sinking deep into her core like grappling hooks. Daggers, greedily burrowing into whatever they could find. None of the warmth he had radiated in the past persisted. The only thing remaining a constant was the uncertainty, the bottomless anguish.

_'I’m not good enough, I will never be good enough'_ ; he had once said in a moment of emotional overload. His entire Force signature seemed to be vibrating with that unspoken sentiment now. As if his entire psyche was made only of suffering and pain and doubt, as if that was all there was to him. All that was left of him.

" _Anakin,_ " she attempted again, firmer this time - _demanding_.

She refused to let him slip away. 

She knew he wouldn't want her to call him by his real name, so few of those who knew his secret left alive. She should be proud that she had lived to see another day, if only by the help of a friend. Had Ezra not found a miraculous way out, she too would pile onto the heap of his victims. 

Her shoulders slumped in near relief, as some of her tension wore off when she was greeted more openly by the presence. So he was intending to stick around. She allowed him to pry into her mind, channeled distinct happy memories towards him. Albeit buried deep beneath the surface, she knew he too must be able to recall the moments when presented with them. Memories of them together, fighting side by side or throwing teasing quips at each other. All while she was still under his tutelage. While she would still look upon him as her older brother, as her guardian, as her _master_.

"I no longer respond to that name."

That _stung_. 

Ahsoka had known he would reject it, but she'd hoped he would accept it for what it was just this once. They both knew his new name was nothing but a title, nothing but a mask to hide behind. Nothing but a facade. It helped make him anonymous, helped in washing away all his crimes. He had been a hero once, before donning the suit and mask. Before the Dark Side sunk its claws into him. Before he was twisted into but a shadow of himself.

Even worse, was the fact that his voice came out clear now. 

Without the use of actual sounds and syllables, without the vocoder translating his words for him. Without the forced diction, much less monotone. Even with the different speech pattern he’d picked up, the differing pronunciation - the voice was _human._

Distant, icy, dismissive. But it was not the mechanical baritone - it was the voice of the terrified, insecure young man she'd once known. The same voice that had spoken to her on Malachor, as one blood shot, golden Sith eye peered through the cracked face plate of his mask.

"It's the name your mother gave you."

There was no response to that, only a wave of pure rage accompanied by the undercurrents of hurt and distrust. Indignation, as if he was questioning how she dared bring up Shmi Skywalker so casually. She had said that with the intent of wounding him, of reopening his scars. She had succeeded, but she took no pleasure in that knowledge. She wasn't out to harm him, although she probably _should_.

"What do you want?"

Now, it was Ahsoka's turn to squirm. She wasn't sure what she wanted per se. She had responded to the cry, perhaps expecting him to deny her. Perhaps expecting him to turn her down, to turn away, to shut her out. Now that he was acknowledging her, she found herself lost. She had so many questions, but none seemed reasonable to ask. She didn't imagine he would reply to them even if she tried.

"You _knew_ I survived," she found herself blurting out, an overpowering melancholy clouding her judgment before she could reign herself in.

A pause, as if he was contemplating. Or perhaps, it was a silent admission of guilt.

"I could not be entirely certain."

He was lying. 

She knew he was, she knew him too well. She could feel it, could sense the dishonesty behind the careless statement. He was dismissing it as a lapse of faith on his part, but she knew better. She shook her head into the emptiness, he must know she wouldn't believe him.

"Why? I know who you are. Both who you were before, and who you are now. It's not like you to keep those aware of your identity alive."

“A simple oversight on my part. It shall not be repeated, take that into consideration. Be grateful.”

“You’re lying. I _know_ you are,” she pressed.

"You are mistaken. You have never known me."

"That's not true. You know it's not true, you're only denying it to yourself," snapped Ahsoka sharply, her frustration slipping through the cracks.

She'd known he would behave this way, known he would be stuck in denial. Why had she hoped for anything else? She suspected he dreaded what might happen if he _did_ admit to who he was, if he did admit to the fact that even now, he was the same man. That there was no phantom of malice possessing him to commit atrocities. 

That it was all on _him_. 

Ahsoka herself had wanted to ignore the truth for so long, had been desperate to accept his proclamation of having killed her old master, had longed to stay blissfully unaware. Had tricked herself into believing he was right, that there was nothing left of the Anakin she'd loved. 

But she knew better, she'd stared into his uncovered eye. Into his bared soul. She'd looked into his mind, peered behind the fortified walls of torment and turmoil - and there hid the same, frightened boy who'd grown up as a slave on Tatooine. She feared he denied because admitting the truth would destroy what was left of his sanity, as much as it had crushed hers when she'd allowed herself to take in reality.

_There was no Darth Vader._

There never had been. There was only the pitiful being Palpatine had twisted Anakin Skywalker into, more machine than man. Less than human, so much less than he had been. 

There was only _Anakin_. And he must sense her stubborn wish to force the same epiphany onto him.

"Still as foolish, and naïve. You cannot appease me with your affections towards a dead man. Skywalker was weak, indeed his apprentice appears to be no better off."

In another lifetime, such a degrading statement would have insulted Ahsoka. When she was still quick to anger, following the whim of her rebellious emotions before reason. Now, all the words inspired was sorrow. The fact that he was referring to himself as weak, as feeble, as insufficient. The jab at her meant nothing; the one aimed at himself not as easily overlooked.

"You weren't weak. You never were. I may not know or understand why you've become... _this_ , but whatever the case, I refuse to believe it was a choice you made out of your own volition. I refuse to believe you could commit to such evil without a good cause, without sensible justification. You always had a way out of trouble, Palpatine must have manipulated you beyond comprehension. He must have backed you into a corner, and extorted you!"

"You know nothing."

It was a warning Ahsoka didn’t heed to.

“What did he say, Anakin? What did he do to put _you_ of all people on a leash?”

“ _Silence_.”

Another tremor through their bond, and this time she feared he would block her out. That she had crossed the line too far; that she had been too bold, too daring. That she would once more appear only as a dot on his hit list, as an enemy of the state. Up for elimination, standing to be eradicated. The command was no longer an insinuation, as much as a promise. The one word urged her to recuperate, and try again coming at him from a different angle.

Still, he hadn't rejected her use of his real name this time. The importance of that wasn't lost on her.

“I just don’t understand. You were always so kind, so caring. You were invaluable. To me, to Rex, to the entire 501st, to Obi Wan...” she paused before adding, “to Padmé--"

"Do _not_ speak her name, you do not _deserve_ to take it in your mouth!"

Ahsoka shuddered and recoiled as if slapped when he raised his voice.

“You know nothing of her, or of me. Learn your place and watch your step _closely_. You have crossed the line more than once, you do not wish to press me any further.”

The delivery was so vile, so full of livid fury and _loathing_ that it made her stomach reel. Made her feel dizzy, nauseous, faint. Her forehead clammy, her chest tight. The fact that the mere mention of Padmé's name could conjure up such unbridled rage was both shocking, confounding, and heartbreaking. 

Ahsoka had been outright aware of the involvement between senator Amidala and her former master, had caught hints at their intimacy. She'd liked the senator, viewed her much as an older sister and a good friend. Her master's high opinions of her had been enough for Ahsoka to accept and appreciate the woman. She wasn't stupid, she'd understood there was more than a friendship between the two. Even when the senator tragically passed, the event made public to the Galaxy after the fall of the Republic, she had mourned a friend and a fellow candidate of democratic justice. She suspected the sudden death had more to do with what Anakin had become than would ever be revealed.

"What happened?" she finally softly inquired when she spoke again.

"It is beyond your concern, and shall remain that way."

His arrogant, uninterested approach was back. Dismissing her offer of comfort, of consolation, of someone to listen to his side of events. Of forgiveness. Ahsoka couldn't say she'd be unbiased, but she longed to _understand_. Longed for that final puzzle piece that would put it all together. That would explain his descent into what could only be described as madness.

"Please," she pleaded, aware of the disappointment and forlorn sadness she was radiating into the ether, pouring into their Force bond. 

" _Please_ , Anakin."

Just for a moment, something shifted. The change so vague, it would have been undetectable if she didn't know him so well. So closely, so thoroughly. His carefully composed facade cracking, just enough for her to glimpse what lay inside.

“I _can’t_.”

The bitter, freezing cold of darkness that had pierced every fiber of her being throughout their conversation abated with those words. Left was only a void; so vast and deep and harrowing that it would haunt her nightmares for the remainder of her life. A loneliness so stifling, a guilt so crippling, it left an excruciating, _hollowing_ ache in its wake. She blinked rapidly against the involuntary tears welling up to blur her vision, choked up and speechless. This torment wasn't hers, it had only been lent to her, extended into her psyche. Laid bare for her, as a truce. As a silent plea not to ask any more.

The searing wound left behind, however; _that_ was her cross to bear. She had wanted him to share, and this was the price to pay.

"You cannot save me, Ahsoka," he begged with such regret, that she could almost see his pained expression.

Before Ahsoka could protest or properly process it, before she could cling to him and keep their connection up - he was gone. Those steadfast, blue eyes of her memory etched into the back of her head. Along with the fading touch of his Force signature. Trembling, she heaved an unsteady sigh before covering her face to weep, grieving the man who would not mourn for himself. There was no one else to put the blame on.

There was no Darth Vader. 

Only Anakin Skywalker, who suffered in constant _anguish_.

And that was the worst part.

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended as another chapter for Mask of Death, but I believe it works better as its own standalone piece. I wanted to write something for Anakin/Vader and Ahsoka, and Ahsoka’s POV is always fun to play around with - especially since she’s the only one besides Luke to really accept that Anakin is still Anakin, even while he calls himself Vader. 
> 
> So, I hope you enjoy my spin on the idea of them conversing post Malachor!


End file.
